Kitchen War
by Maya Tamika
Summary: Alfred and Arthur are visiting Matthew and Francis. But when the Canadian and the Frenchman come home from work and start making supper, all hell breaks loose! A little Franada fluff and USUK fluff, but not much of either. This is more for comedic purposes! Rated for language and minor violence.


Alfred sat on the couch in Matthew and Francis' apartment. He and Arthur were visiting for a few days just for kicks and they had only gotten in very late the day before. Arthur was taking a shower and Alfred was watching TV while he waited for Matthew and Francis to get home from work. Luckily, it was Friday, so this was likely to be the only day when Alfred and Arthur would be home alone.

Suddenly, the lock clicked and the door opened. Matthew dashed into the apartment, quickly closing the door behind him. He pulled off his jacket and hung it up, then removed his shoes (once a Canadian, always a Canadian). He hung his keys on the hook by the door and dropped his briefcase on the floor. He turned to Alfred, "what time is it?"

Alfred was surprised. Matthew sounded…frantic.

"Uh…4:30?" Alfred stated, though it sounded like a question.

Matthew sighed, "half an hour. I can do this in half an hour." He quickly rushed into the kitchen.

Alfred sat in stunned silence for a moment before he stood and followed, "uh, Mattie? Is something wrong?"

He was surprised when his brother's hands landed on his chest and shoved him out of the kitchen, "out!"

"What the…?" Alfred stood in confusion for a moment, then returned to his seat on the couch. About five minutes later, Arthur joined him.

"Are Matthew and Francis home yet?" Arthur asked.

"Mattie is…but he's scurrying around the kitchen and refuses to let me in," Alfred answered, "and he won't tell me what he's doing."

"Weird," Arthur stood and headed to the kitchen, only to receive the same treatment as Alfred.

"I thought I said out!" Matthew all but yelled, not caring who he was speaking to.

Arthur returned to the living room and sat down, just as confused at Alfred. The latter wrapped one arm around the former's shoulders and they waited.

Ten minutes later, the lock clicked again.

"Shit!" Matthew declared from the kitchen, "he's early!"

Francis burst in, just as frantic as Matthew had. He, too, quickly shed his excess clothes (including his shoes. Once married to a Canadian, always married to a Canadian) and other articles, then turned to Alfred and Arthur, "is Matthieu home yet?"

The confused couple nodded slowly.

"Merde!" Francis swore, then he, too, dashed into the kitchen.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Non!" Matthew cried when Francis entered.

"Que faites-tu dans ma cuisine?" Francis demanded.

"I'm making supper! Go away!" Matthew yelled.

Francis was suddenly launched out of the kitchen and the door was closed and locked.

"Merde!" Francis yelled. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to Alfred and Arthur, "I need a credit card! Now!"

Surprised, and somewhat scared of the Frenchman, Alfred quickly pulled out his wallet, grabbed his credit card, and handed it to Francis.

Francis returned to the kitchen door and slid the credit card into the slot between the door and the wall. The door popped open (I know you see this happen on TV all the time, but it actually works. I used it to break into my sister's room before she moved out. Did I just say that out loud?) and Francis dashed inside, chucking the credit card over his shoulder.

"C'est mon jour!" Francis called.

"Non! Menteur!" Matthew yelled back.

A moment later, Francis came out of the kitchen, holding Matthew off the floor by the waist while the other struggled against him. Francis deposited the poor Canadian on the couch next to Arthur, then ran into the kitchen, closing and locking the door again.

Matthew immediately ran over to the door and pounded on the door, screaming, "vous fils d'… ouvrez cette porte! It's my turn!"

A wild cackle came from the other side of the door and Francis said in a mocking tone, "non! Jamais!"

Matthew growled in frustration and he glanced around. His eyes finally settled on the credit card on the floor and, using the same trick as Francis, opened the door and ran in.

"What on earth…?" Arthur began, but was stopped when Matthew ran out again, pulling Francis by the ankles while the latter screamed curses in French.

As soon as Matthew had Francis all the way out of the kitchen, he ran over the Frenchman, cackling evilly and slammed the door shut and locked it again, narrowly missing Francis' fingers.

"Merde!" Francis yelled as he stood and looked around for the credit card, but Matthew had taken it with him. He quickly turned to Alfred and Arthur again, holding out his hand, "driver's license! Another credit card! Anything that shape and thickness!"

This time, Arthur pulled out his credit card and handed it to the Frenchman, who quickly entered the kitchen again, yelling, "arrêt! Ne touchez pas cela!"

"Make me!" Matthew yelled back.

"Bien! Je vais le faire!" Francis declared.

Suddenly, they emerged again, Matthew struggling against Francis, who was carrying the Canadian fireman-style over his shoulder. He again dropped Matthew on the couch and ran back into the kitchen, laughing maniacally, closing and locking the door yet again.

"Oh, no you don't!" Matthew declared, popping the door open with Alfred's credit card again and ducked into the kitchen.

"Hey, do you smell that?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Alfred sniffed the air, "smells like something's cooking."

"What are they doing in there?" Arthur wondered aloud.

"One can only guess…and hope," Alfred replied.

Suddenly, Francis fell backwards out of the kitchen, landing on his rear just outside. The door was again slammed shut and Francis jumped up immediately, again opening it, but not closing it, a long stream of angry French emanating from his mouth.

"Non, Francis!" Matthew yelled, but Alfred thought he heard a touch of laughter in his brother's voice.

"Alright, that's enough," Arthur declared suddenly, standing, "I want to know right now what's going on in that kitchen!"

Alfred, curious, followed. Arthur paused in the doorway, not expecting what he was seeing. Alfred froze right behind him.

On the floor, leaning against one of the cupboards, was Francis, holding Matthew by the waist while the latter was clearly trying to get to the oven, which had two pots sitting on top of it and was turned on to 350degrees. The smell of food was quite prominent in here and both blondes on the floor were smiling broadly.

"It'll burn!" Matthew declared, still struggling against his French husband.

"Il ne brûlera pas," Francis replied, giving a strong tug so that Matthew was leaning against his chest. He then proceeded to nibble on the shell of Matthew's ear.

Matthew struggled and finally got away. He stood and began stirring one of the pots, then looked in the other.

"Il brûlera!" Matthew stated.

Francis appeared behind him and quickly pulled him away from the stove, then walked to the kitchen door. Arthur and Alfred quickly moved out of the way while Francis deposited Matthew outside again.

Matthew stood, but Arthur's hand on his shoulder stopped him from running back into the kitchen. "What are you two doing?" he demanded.

"Making supper," Matthew replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He then dashed into the kitchen and jumped onto Francis's back, sucking viciously on his neck.

"Matthieu!" Francis yelled, "I'm trying to cook!"

"Not in my kitchen you're not!" Matthew somehow (probably from practice) managed to pull him out of the kitchen, then jumped off him and returned to the stove.

"I'm so confused," Alfred complained as Francis ran to Matthew's side and scooped him up bridal style.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Matthew demanded, pounding on Francis' chest.

Francis set the Canadian down on the couch and again ran past the American and the Brit at the door, entered the kitchen and checked whatever was in the oven.

"Francis!" Matthew demanded, also running past the confused blondes.

"It's ready," Francis announced. Matthew stopped short, "you set the table."

"Pas une occasion!" Francis replied, "you set the table. I'll get the food."

"No you won't! You'll set the table!" Matthew demanded.

"Why don't I set the table?" Arthur suggested.

Matthew and Francis both turned to him and yelled in unison, "no!"

Matthew grabbed a pair of _ove' gloves_ from a drawer and picked up one of the pots on the table, "get the dishes."

"Non!" Francis grabbed his own pair of gloves and ran after Matthew. He expertly grabbed the pot and continued on the way to the table.

"You'll need a heat pad for that," Matthew smirked and grabbed one from a drawer. He ran to the table and held the pad tauntingly in front of Francis.

"Put it down," Francis demanded.

"Not until you promise to set the table and let me get the food," Matthew replied.

"Non! I refuse!" Francis turned up his nose.

"Then you can get the heat pad yourself. But that means that you have to set the pot back on the stove," Matthew teased.

Francis suddenly shot a leg out and swiped Matthew's legs out from under him. Matthew fell, landing gracefully and unhurt on the floor, and the heat pad somehow miraculously landing on the table. Francis smugly set the pot down and ran back toward the stove, but Matthew grabbed his pant leg, effectively tripping him. He fell flat on his stomach and Matthew dashed past him, grabbing another heat pad and the other pot.

"What are you guys? Martial artists?" Alfred asked.

Matthew set it on the table and held his arms up in a gesture of "I win!" only to realise that Francis already had the casserole (that was what was in the oven) and a heat pad and was setting them on the table.

"Dammit…" Matthew sighed in defeat.

"You still haven't set the table," Alfred pointed out, only to find a hand (Arthur's) clasped over his mouth.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Arthur hissed, "I actually want to eat tonight."

It was too late. Francis was pulling silverware out of the silverware drawer and Matthew had four plates in hand and four cups balanced expertly on top. They finished their tasks quickly, then smirked at each other, both panting slightly. A moment later, they were passionately lip-locked.

Alfred and Arthur could do nothing but stare.

"What the hell…" Alfred began.

"…just happened?" Arthur finished.

Francis and Matthew looked up at them, smiling, as they caught their breath, both from all the running around and the kiss.

"You didn't think we were actually fighting, did you?" Matthew asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Well…if you weren't it was quite convincing," Arthur answered, following suit.

"That is just normal for us," Francis explained.

"Normal?" Alfred gawked, "there's nothing normal about that."

"Sit down, Al," Matthew said, "Francis, please pass the casserole."

Francis' eye took on a mischievous gleam, "non."

"Francis…" Matthew warned, the same look appearing in his eye.

"Oh god, not again," Arthur buried his face in his hands.

"What?" Alfred asked, confused, "what's going on?"

Francis was now leaning away from Matthew, casserole in hand, while Matthew was crawling over him, trying to get the main dish back.

"Francis, we have guests!" Matthew barked.

"Je ne m'inquiète pas!" Francis replied.

**Hey, guys! If you're following me, you're probably staring at this right now going, "three stories in one night? What the heeeeeellll?" But these plot bunnies won't leave me the fuck alone!**

**Anyway, with that expletive out of my head, yes, another Franada. They're my OTP (I feel like I say that a lot…) but I'll eventually start writing other parings again, I promise!**

**Still taking requests if you have any ideas (the last time I typed that was, like, fifteen minutes ago). **

**Anyway, quick story time: I was making chocolate sauce for my family (I make amazing chocolate sauce) and this idea came to me…I don't know how. I wrote it in about two hours, so sorry if it's crap. I'll probably read it again tomorrow (OMG tomorrow's Monday! NOOOO!) and hate it, then do nothing about it for three weeks, then fix it.**

**So, yeah, there's not much else to say, except…I hope you enjoyed this! :D**

**Until next time (which will not likely be later tonight…I hope)!**

**Oh! Translations! I almost forgot! (silly me):**

**Merde! – Shit!**

**Non! – Non !**

**Que faites-tu dans ma cuisine? – What are you doing in my kitchen?**

**C'est mon jour! – It's my day!**

**Non! Menteur! – No! Liar!**

**Vous fils d'… ouvrez cette porte! – You son of a…open this door! **

**Non! Jamais! – No! Never!**

**Arrêt! Ne touchez pas cela! – Stop! Don't touch that!**

**Bien! Je vais le faire! – Fine! ****I will!**

**Il ne br****û****lera pas – It won't burn!**

**Il br****û****lera! – It will burn!**

**Pas une occasion! – Not a chance!**

**Je ne m'inqui****è****te pas! – I don't care!**

_**~Maya**_


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